


Can't Fight This Feeling

by halzbarryscerek



Category: Glee, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Awkward Flirting, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-08 14:58:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5502014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halzbarryscerek/pseuds/halzbarryscerek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When New Directions member Stiles is on the receiving end of a nasty slushie attack, the hot new guy at McKinley, Scott McCall, is all too happy to give him the shirt off his back. Literally. And Stiles struggles to not make himself look like an idiot in front of his new crush.</p><p>Or ... that Glee/Teen Wolf crossover fusion where Stiles and Scott live in Lima, Ohio and they can sing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can't Fight This Feeling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ileliberte](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ileliberte/gifts).



> Merry Happy Christmas, Teen Wolfies!
> 
> This is a fic for Sciles Secret Santa. My giftee, as it turns out, loves Glee and Teen Wolf, just like me, so I figured that this would be a lovely time to write a small little fic combining the two.

Probably one of the worst things about being in glee club was having to deal with the endless onslaught of bullies. Being body checked into the lockers was manageable, most of the time they don't hit you hard enough to do any serious bruising. But _good God_ —the slushies!

Stiles couldn't tell if he hated grape or whatever the red flavor was the most. Whichever he got, it was a major bitch to try and get the stains out from his shirt. At least he wasn't wearing white today of all days. Usually, he would get slushies on Thursdays, but Karofsky and his galloping gang of goons decided to surprise him on his way out from Mrs. Hagberg's History class.

"Son of a—" Stiles grumbled, sticking his tongue out as he furiously scrubbed at his shirt over the sink. He was in the boy's bathroom on the third floor, which was usually deserted because there was only one functioning toilet and that one was almost always occupied by Coach Tanaka and his horrible diarrhea problems.

"Need a shirt?" came a voice, suddenly, making Stiles squeak in an embarrassingly high voice that even Kurt Hummel and his breathy tone would laugh at.

A hot guy with shaggy black hair and a crooked jaw was smiling warmly at him, hands clamped around his book bag strap as he waited for Stiles to put his tongue back into his mouth and say something like a normal human being.

"Uh, uh, yeah, sure. I'd love to—I mean, yes, I would love your shirt. Or _a_ shirt. Any shirt would be lovely." _Lovely_? He had to applaud himself for acting like a moron in front of the hot guy.

Hot Guy let out a small laugh before dropping his bag and removing his shirt— _Holy shit!_

Abs. Abs. Abs. That was the only coherent thought in Stiles' brain because— _abs_. The guy had muscles for days—weeks ... years, even. And just a light dusting of hair across his nipples, which were so— _yum_.

"I saw Karofsky nail you during fifth," Hot Guy stated as he offered his shirt, which Stiles took with shaking fingers.

"Thank you."

Hot Guy shrugged. "I'm Scott, by the way. Scott McCall."

Scott McCall. There was a name to the killer abs and hairy nipples. And it was Scott.

Scott. _Scott + Stiles_.  Scott and Stiles 4Ever. **Mr. Stiles McCall**. **_Mr. Scott Stilinski_**. **_Sciles_**.

He pulled himself out of his fantasy before he made himself look like a bigger idiot than he already had, just in time to see Scott pulling a football jersey over his head. His heart began to sink, because _fucking great_. He was one of **_them_**.

"So, you're on the football team?" he asked cautiously. "I know everyone on the team. I don't think I've seen you before."

"I just transferred from Carmel," Scott replied with a shrug. "My dad got relocated."

"Oh, really? What's your dad do?"

"He's a cop."

"So's mine!" Stiles said, a little too excited. "My dad's the police chief."

"My dad's your dad's new head deputy."

"That smarmy asshole?" Stiles sucked his tongue back into his mouth because he was a fucking dumbass who said dumbass things in front of hot guys with killer abs and hairy nipples, because he was a dumbass. "I—I—I'm so—I didn't mean ..."

But Scott didn't look mad at all. Instead, he just let out another soft chuckle before smiling at him with that cute, crooked smile. "It's all good. I know the kind of guy my dad can be. Actually, things between him and my mom have been kind of rocky since I came out."

Stiles could feel his heart shooting up into his throat. "Dude, you're—you're _gay_?"

"Oh ..." Scott said, a little anxious. "I'm sorry. I didn't ... I thought you were gay, too. I didn't think it was a big deal."

Stiles looked offended. "You thought **_I_** was gay?"

"I'm really sorry."

"No, I mean, I **_am_** gay, but I didn't think you would **_assume_** I was!" Stiles huffed. He began subconsciously looking at his attire: plaid shirt, baggy jeans, an old pair of sneakers and Scott was currently fisting his favorite shirt: a blue tee with the word "STUD" printed on top of a picture of a muffin. Kurt would have an aneurysm if he ever saw Stiles wearing that in public.

"I'm sorry."

"It's cool, but how did you know?"

"You were kind of staring at my nipples the whole time I was shirtless."

Shit.

"Well, then," Stiles declared with a nod. "I will go find a corner somewhere and die. Thanks for the shirt. I'll give it back, I promise."

Scott stopped him before he had the chance to escape. "Wait, can I ... get your number or something?"

"I gotta get to glee club rehearsals. I'll see you."

He bolted out the door, face still flushing red from embarrassment.

"Wait, so you just ran away?" asked Stiles' friend, Tina. He had explained everything from the slushie facial to Scott showing up to the horrible humiliation that followed. "A cute guy literally gave you the shirt off his back and asked for your number. How could you not want to get on that?"

They both took their usual seats in the back row while the rest of the glee club members piled into the room, anxiously waiting for Mr. Schue to give yet another preachy and convoluted and ultimately irrelevant musical assignment for the week. At the very least, he hoped it wouldn't be as bad as Madonna week.

"Are you kidding me? After I just made myself look like such an idiot? He probably thinks I'm some kind of perv who sneaks peeks at guys in the locker room."

"But you do ... ?"

"Not the point," Stiles grumbled as he sat back against his seat.

"Don't get so down on yourself, Twinkie," said Santana Lopez as she plopped down in the empty seat next to him. "It's just your role as the gangly, nerdy loser who talks too much and humiliates himself in front of people much hotter than they are. You've already taken that title away from Lady Hummel. And next year, someone will hopefully do the same for you."

Wow, she insulted two people in one sentence. Two more and she could've broken her personal record.

"Thanks, Santana," Stiles mumbled. When dealing with someone like her, it was best to just take her comments in stride. It was her own special way of saying she cared ... Or she just didn't like him.

Before Stiles could come back a biting retort of his own, Mr. Schue had already entered the room with someone close behind him.

"Alright, guys, I have an announcement to make. We have a new member! This is Scott McCall, and he just transferred into McKinley from Beacon Hills, California."

"Is that the werewolf place?" Brittany asked, eyebrows crinkling in thought. Everyone else, however, just ignored her, considering she says outlandish things all the time.

Stiles' stomach dropped. The universe loved to make him miserable. Why couldn't it go back to making Kurt its own personal punching bag?

"Oh, my god, it's him," he whispered to Tina.

"Him who?"

" _Him-him!_ " he hissed before whispering over at Santana, "Santana, whatever you do. Don't move from your seat—"

"HEY, NEW GUY!" Santana called out, waving manically at Scott. She had already jumped one seat over and was pointing obnoxiously at the empty spot next to Stiles. "THERE'S A SEAT RIGHT OVER HERE NEXT TO STILES, THE GUY WHO HAS A CRUSH ON YOU!"

Stiles was the son of a cop, so he had to remind himself that murder was a very, very bad thing.

"Stop it, Santana," Mr. Schue admonished, before turning to Scott. "Scott, why don't you show us what you got?"

Scott nodded shyly before taking his spot in front of everyone. This was the most judgmental group Stiles had ever met. Scott was about to be eaten alive ...

Except that he wasn't. In fact, as soon as the music started playing and Scott opened his mouth, it was like angels were singing Blink 182 songs in front of the glee club. He moved his hips in the same way Puck would during his performances, sang with a sultry rock voice like Finn's, and goddamn it did he have a smile for days like Rachel Berry (thank god he doesn't have her personality).

"Amazing!" gushed Mr. Schue.

"That was awesome!" Tina exclaimed.

"Not bad, new kid, not bad," Santana waved her hand dismissively.

"I would've preferred something from Broadway," Rachel stated, "But it was quite catchy!"

It was only natural that everyone basically fell in love with him after that performance. That shy smile, cute puppy-dog demeanor, and not to mention his amazing singing, Scott was like the shiny new toy. Stiles was Woody and Scott was his Buzz Lightyear. Except that Stiles was never Woody. He was more like Wheezy; that penguin from the sequel that everyone seemed to have forgotten about in the third film.

Stiles must've blanked out long enough for Scott to take a seat right next to him, causing him to squeak embarrassingly once again. He sat stiffly, sweat beading against his brow as he held his breath. Tina kept elbowing him, urging him to talk to Scott, who seemed to sitting with a smug smile on his face, listening to Mr. Schue's boring lecture about teamwork and what Journey songs they would use. Oh, great, now he was talking about another tribute week to an artist from the 80s.

After the tenth elbow to his ribs, Stiles finally plucked up the courage to talk to Scott.

"Good job ... by the way," he managed out. Real smooth.

"Thanks," Scott replied with a wider smile. "It was kind of weird how the band knew what song I was going to sing, though."

Stiles shook his head. "That happens a lot. Best to just roll with it."

He nodded his head understandingly before eyeing the black Henley that Stiles was still wearing. "Y'know, you look good in **_my_** shirt."

Stiles felt his face going hot once again, just as Tina and Santana snickered evilly in their seats, nosily listening to every word exchanged between the two.

"Yeah, I should wear more of your clothes some time."

Well, that just called for a face-palm, which Tina was happy to do herself. Santana was full-on cackling now at Stiles' mortifying display at flirting.

Scott giggled before leaning in, "Well, I guess you should have more opportunities to take your clothes off then."

The oxygen in Stiles' brain had officially been cut off and he was pretty sure he died two minutes ago from a heart attack. Before he could think straight, glee club practice was over and everyone was beginning to pile out of the room. Tina and Santana practically shoved everyone out so that Scott and Stiles were the among the last ones out.

"So, I guess I'll be seeing you around?" Scott asked as they both gathered their things.

"Look, I'm really sorry for—" Stiles begun before the other boy cut him off.

"Meet me at Breadstix," Scott suggested, "6PM. After practice. That one girl—Tina, I think—she gave me your number while you were staring off into space. I'll call you. You can give me my shirt back then ..." He began to walk way. "Or not?"

Stiles stood, rooted to his spot, as his brain tried to regain its functions again. He was pretty sure Hot New Guy just asked him out on a date and he was most certainly going to piss himself. And to think, he was going to have to be around him all year in glee club. It was going to be an interesting year, and for once the spotlight isn't going to be on Rachel Berry.


End file.
